Misdemeanors
by Black-Marimba
Summary: In my many years of life, I have learned that miracles do happen. They are far and few in between but they exist. The recovery of Captain Steve Rogers in 2011 was one of them. But there are also misguided hopes. The return of Loki in 2012 was one. I've come to realize that when you act on misguided hope when trying for a miracle you can be charged with more than just misdemeanors.
1. Chapter 1: Second Meetings

Chapter One: Second Meetings

The vast halls of one of the many SHEILD centers were like a labyrinth to those not familiar with them. My light boots made no sound as they connected with the tiled floor of the hall. My steps were silent and quick as I made my way to the meeting Fury was holding in one of the conference rooms; the meeting I was informed about roughly seven minutes ago.

Rounding a corner, I willed open a set of double doors to reveal the exact conference room I was searching for. The director stood at the table and glanced at me with his one good eye. Director Fury was a dark man of average height though his carriage somehow made everyone shrink in his presence. His black leather duster blended in with the rest of his clothes and boots giving him the look of one large shadow. Perhaps that was what made the newer agents fear him on sight; the image of a shadow gliding through their lives barking orders and harsh words if met with the failure to comply. Nick Fury was nothing soft.

"Agent Fyres, how nice of you to join us," irritation and sarcasm mixed in his voice.

"How nice, indeed, no thanks to you," I fired back taking my usual seat. Fury ignored my comment and picked up a remote. The overhead projector flickered to life as Fury brought up a presentation.

"As most of you know, a man was discovered in the arctic sometime last night and if you didn't know- now you do. Now normally this wouldn't be a concern of SHIELD but his clothes and matching vibranium shield lead us to believe that he is the super-soldier engineered by Dr, Erskine in the 1940's." A chorus of whispers went around the table as I clenched my teeth nervously. The projector showed various pictures of a muscular blonde man caged in ice at various stages of defrostation. "Now he has been thawed out and is staying with us for observation. After these 70-something years it has become evident that another serum is not a likely but we can't exactly let him go out into this new time. Those of you here are going to observe him, monitor him, and try and get him to assimilate as quickly as possible. We are _not_ a babysitting service." Fury looked around at us, his hard gaze unwavering; practically daring us to voice an inquiry. When he met none he continued, "That is all. Now go and do your jobs."

Everyone hurried to gather their things and rid themselves of the imposing director. One brave soul, a small Korean woman, addressed him. "What is his name?" Fury glanced at the photos and answered.

"Steve Rogers."

Days had gone by and I tried to leave my room as little as possible after given the assignment of assimilating the super-soldier. I admit I was childish about avoiding the assignment as I had subjected myself to telling others I was ill and snuck around during the night to restock my fridge but I couldn't bring myself to actually go and speak with the man out of time. But Fury was having none of that.

A week after the meeting, my door opened and the director entered, his signature long coat billowing behind him like a living shadow. His face was stern like usual but there was a deep anger there that he rarely turned on me.

"How are you Andy? You look well. You look pretty damn well for someone who hasn't left their room for practically a week. What is this I hear about you not seeing Rogers like I ordered?" His words came out in a rush as his temper flared. I had no answer and I didn't deny his accusations and remained silent. Realizing I wasn't going to fight him on this he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Look, he isn't listening to anyone really, he's stubborn, confused, and he won't talk. We need that silver tongue of yours, Fyres."

I nodded. "Alright. I shall be there shortly." I spoke low but Fury's trained ears heard me as he gave me a curt nod then left.

After a short shower I dressed in my usual attire which consisted of black trousers and a deep purple tunic. I admired the swirling silver decals that ran across the durable fabric before I pulled my almost-black hair into a bun at the nape of my neck. A once over in the mirror deemed that I was decent and I left to visit the soldier.

The walk to where the captain was kept was not as long as I hoped. Upon entering I found that the room was decorated in the style one would find in the 1940s complete with war posters, light fixtures and a boxing ring. There was even the dull wash of sepia all over the room from the light bulbs. Every detail was to the "T" but something about it just seemed off, as if the furnishings themselves knew they were imposters. The sound of Fury's voice brought me out of my haze and back to the present.

"I've brought someone new today, Mr. Rogers." The man in question was across the room facing away from us as he beat the punching bag in front of him.

"It's been a week already. Can't you see that I'm fine?" The soldier beat the bag with more enthusiasm, an obvious sign that he was not fine but rather angry.

"You've been asleep for 70 year, cap. It's expected that you experience shock and mild PTSD. We are trying to help you!" Fury motioned me closer and I took hesitant steps forward.

"I'm fine! I don't need a shrink or a doctor or a scientist. I. Am. Fine!" With one last punch, the bag broke off the chain and flew a couple yards away from the blonde. He sighed and went to retrieve the dead weight as Fur smiled placed me in front of him, his hands on my shoulders.

"But you see, Agent Fyres is none of those things. Her skill set is much more… unusual… But she was once stranded in an unfamiliar world. I figured maybe you two could relate to one another."

The captain kept his eyes on the ground as he walked back and reattached the bag. It was evident he was ignoring the SHIELD director. The older man gave me a push and I walked up behind the soldier. My voice was uncharacteristically quiet as I spoke, "There is a difference between pity and empathy, Captain." The man whipped around, his blue eyes wide as he stared at me. The cerulean eyes searched my face then my eyes as his breath caught. Taking a careful step forward he found his voice. His voice was barely a whisper.

"Andy?" I gave a small but genuine smile.

"Hello, again, Steve."


	2. Chapter 2: Explanations

**Author's Note: Hello, thank you for reading this Misdemeanors. This is not my first fanfiction, but this is the first one for this account. You may know me as xxjaimi122xx. I am finally getting back into the swing of things and seeing Thor: the Dark World has convinced me to post this story. Misdemeanors has been brewing in my mind for quite some time now. I love reviews and I _do _reply to them. Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated.  
****Enjoy! **

* * *

Chapter Two: Explanations

I shifted anxiously under the blue-eyed stare of Captain Steve Rogers. Steve took a hesitant step toward me and seeing that I had no intention of moving, came to stand closer in front of me. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to find the words to say. Eventually he found them and spoke, his voice soft.

"I don't understand. How can you be here? From what I understand it's been 70 years but you don't look any different than when I saw you in 1943," the last part was barely above a whisper. I tried to form an explanation in my head but the helpless look in the soldier's eyes caused me forget any plausible or redeeming explanation. However, before I could speak the director reminded us of his presence.

"Hold on, I must have missed something if you two are claiming to know each other. Now Captain Rogers has been an icicle for almost 70 years I demand an explanation as to how you know him, Agent Fyres." The anger and confusion in Director Fury's voice was evident as his authority coiled itself into his words.

Looking back at Fury, I gathered myself and put on the mask of calm that I had learned to wear most of my life. Fury has gotten closer putting me between the two men that were at risk of threatening my personal space. I took a step back away from both of them and spoke.

"I am not from around here, it was why I was pulled into SHIELD in the first place. But I didn't find my way here recently. I first arrived in 1942 and was stranded here with no way home. I found myself alone in an unfamiliar place with no idea what to do. But I was no stranger to war fare and enlisted in the American forces since fighting was the only thing I could do in this world without being completely out of place."

"That doesn't explain how you met Rogers," Fury persisted, unsatisfied. I glanced at Steve who was getting chairs for us then continued.

"From the training camp, I met Dr. Erskine and he had pieced together where I hailed from and offered me a position in his labs. I will not deny that in your sciences I was practically useless but he requested me at all the testings for my…other skill sets. While at the camps I met the Captain –who was not yet a captain –and we became fast companions as the other recruits pestered us both –myself for being a women and Captain Rogers for his small size. That's all there is to that tale."

Fury's face was unchanged as he stared hard at Steve and I. I used to be unnerved by the director's hard looks but I had long since grown immune to it. Steve, however, shifted uneasily under the scrutiny of the spy. In that moment I took the time to look at him and actually see him. It had been many decades since I first met the young-old captain and I had lamented his supposed death. I had thought that I would never look upon eyes as blue as his and see the compassion that laid there. Steve Rogers was a little miracle of unexpected events. 'Just a kid from Brooklyn.' Steve glanced at me and we locked eyes; a small smile curved his lips, the infectious action tugging my lips into a smile of my own. Fury cleared his throat.

"Well seeing as you two already know each other I have a new assignment for you, Fyres." Apprehension welled inside me at the director's words. "I want you to monitor Captain Rogers and help him assimilate. He will be discharged tomorrow and will be staying with you at your home. You have been spending too many nights in your SHIELD room. That's an order not up for discussion." Without another words, Fury exited the room.

Steve and I stood there awkwardly for a moment then sat in the seats he had provided, the one meant for Fury sat empty. The soldier and I stared at each other unabashed as we took in the situation. The telltale signs of stress were written all over the blonde's face and ingrained in his body language. His back was straight and stiff in his seat with his muscular arms crossed tightly over his chest. The perspiration on his brow from his previous boxing had dissipated but his brow was still knitted together and creased in contemplation. His eyes were what held me frozen, however. Those clear blue eyes were clouded with worry as he looked back at me. Guilt gripped me as he had once been one of my dearest friends but now he looked upon me with trepidation. During the war he had trusted me completely but my presence alone said that I had not done the same. The weight of it goaded me into action to escape such raw scrutiny. I stood and glided over to a small folding table that held the bandage that he wrapped his fist with. Wrapping the gauze around my own smaller fist I made my way over to the abandoned punching bag.

"Do you fancy a session? It's been a while since I did this with a partner," I half-muttered. Steve gave a small half-hearted smile and made his way to the other side of the punching bag. He held the bag steady as I gave a few testing punches then began to get more involved. "I know you have questions," I grunted, "and I am prepared to answer as many as I can."

"How old are you?" I scoffed at the question.

"It's rude to ask a woman her age so let's just say I am older than your homeland."

"But that's over 200…" I nodded, indicating that I was well-aware of that. "Um, you said you 'hailed' from somewhere. Where exactly is that?"

My punches became a little more aggressive as I answered. "I am from many places but I don't exactly have a home. Where I'm from is of little importance and I'd rather not discuss that."

Steve sighed in discontent as I avoided another question. "How did you get here?"

I thought over how to answer him and paused my blows. "I guess I got here by trusting the wrong people, I suppose. " Anger flared in me and I resumed striking the abused sack. "A long time ago I had very few friends and apparently they were the wrong ones for me. We decided to take a journey here. The leader of our little group was determined to prove a point to us. He was reckless and pigheaded and ignorant and idiotic and put us in the middle of a war zone. We became confused and scattered and hell broke loose. I found myself wandering around the German woodlands with the least liked of the group. Very few trusted him and even fewer liked him. But I did –and I was a fool to. Back then I fancied him and I guess you could say we were an item of sorts. It was never confirmed legitimate," my punches came harder as I reminisced. "Everyone told me that he was a mistake I would regret one day and they were right. We were sleeping inside of a large hollowed out tree –a redwood –when I heard him shuffle awake. I awoke as he left the tree. Then there was a blinding light, a crack, and he was gone. And I was alone." My strikes reflected my anger at the memory and with one final punch sent the bag and Steve back many yards –farther than when Steve broke the connection.

My breathing was erratic as I was taken back to that time. _Tall trees. Burning wood. Tall grass. Autumn leaves beneath our feet. Green and blue eyes. Green blanket. The smell of peppermint. A beam of light. Nothing. He's gone. He's gone. No, he promised. But he's gone. He didn't come back. I'm alone. Alone. _

Shaking my head I snapped back to the present to find Steve standing in front of me, his large hands placed on my small shoulders. Worry was evident in his cerulean eyes. I let out a shaky breath and gave him a smile, assuring him that I was alright. Silently, he took my hands in his and brought them up to my face revealing that the bandages were blackened and as if it were in a fire. I snatched my hands away from his and looked down.

"They never came back for me…" I whispered. The captain returned a hand to my shoulder in an expression of comfort and spoke softly.

"Everything is going to be alright, you know. I may not know your whole story but I'm not going to push you. I thought that you had lied to me and was afraid that I never had a friend in you at all but I see that you are the same person I thought you to be, just maybe a little stranger," he joked lightly. I chuckled and smiled, happy that our friendship hadn't been tarnished like I had feared.

"I am going to arrange some things, and I shall be back. Freshen up, it's about time you see New York." Steve beamed at the idea of going outside and began to unbandage his fist. I turned to go to the door but then walked over to him.

I took his larger frame in my arms and hugged him fiercely. I buried my face in the side of his neck as I was not much shorter than him. I felt his thick arms fold around my slimmer body and his face pressed into my hair. We embraced for a few seconds; the man out of time and the woman out of place.

"It's good to see you again, Steve."


	3. Chapter 3: Family Matters

Chapter Three: Family Matters

The next few days spent with Steve had honestly some of the best in my life. We went to see films (I remember he loved them in the '40s despite their horrendous quality) and I had purchased as many history books as I could find to help him catch up on the past 70 years. I soon found out that documentaries were the best for him as they combined his love of film and need for historical knowledge. However, he never quite mastered the computer. Domestically, he fit in for the most part, but his "old-fashioned" manners proved to be a challenge when certain things hard for him to swallow. One of such things was his first encounter with common female clothes. Since the '40s women has covered themselves less and less. Steve wasn't good with fully dressed women and thus was downright abysmal with those that wore the ever-popular "booty shorts."

Upon Fury's orders I had made my apartment presentable for the captain to move into. Steve had made the adjustment into my apartment easily -but technically it was _his_ Brooklyn apartment. After we decided that the super soldier was dead in 1943 I had gone to tell his family of his fate. Albeit I left out much of the details –such as Hydra and the serum –I told them that he had fought valiantly, saved many lives, including my own, and had died saving their lives. His father, Joseph had been dead so I never met him but from the pictures, Steve looked just like him but he held all the mannerisms of his mother from what an aunt of his told me. Apparently, a falling out with his brother led to him distancing himself, he barely visited and it broke his mother's –Sarah's –heart. Upon knowing that I had become good friends with her son she and I spent a lot of time together talking about Steve then talking about ourselves and we became close friends. Once she found out that I had been staying with Howard Stark (as Erskine was dead and I had no other place to live), she promptly ordered that I come to live with her. The day I met her was one of the saddest days I had ever experienced. I shall always remember it.

* * *

August 23, 1943

I hugged the borrowed leather jacket closer to me as I made my way down the busy Brooklyn streets. The sun had refused to show its face the past few days. It was as if the sun itself knew that this was not a time for joyous weather. The clouds had blanketed over the city as if to wrap mourning souls in an embrace to comfort.

I made my way into an old building and started up the stairs to my destination. After staring down multiple apartment numbers I found the match I was looking for. Glancing at the address that was scribbled neatly in the back of the late captain's notebook confirmed that I had found the right door. My hands fidgeted nervously as I waited for the door to open after giving three hearty knocks. After a few moments the door opened to reveal a petite but sturdy looking woman that looked to be in her late 40s or early 50s. Her red hair was graying gently in some places but the two tones complimented her bright blue eyes that were staring warily into my own eyes. Her high cheekbones and sharp nose made her look intimidating despite her small stature and barely-there wrinkles. She was a very pretty woman and I found myself wishing that I had seen her at a younger age when she would've no doubt been at her prime. She looked nothing like Steven.

Realizing that I had been staring as we stood there in a battle of wits, I straightened up and addressed her. "Hello, is this the Rogers' residence?" My nerves had made my unusual accent thicker than normal. Upon hearing my accent, her eyes seemed to soften a touch as she replied in her own intonation.

"Yes, who wants to know?" Her accent was thick and one that I had heard a few times and later discovered was Irish.

"My apologizes. My name is Andromeda Fyres. I was –am a friend of Steven's. I was hoping I could speak with you." Her eyes lit up at the mention of Steve's name and a smile stretched across her face showing off dimples that Steve had no doubt inherited from her.

"A friend of Steve's? Please come in. I must know how my little Steven came to know such a beautiful girl!" Her voice was light and full of excitement as she ushered me inside her reasonably small apartment.

She quickly busied herself with making tea and coffee in the small kitchen as she chattered on about how rarely she heard from Steve those days. I watched as she came alive and shed the skin of the harsh woman I met in the threshold. When she came to life like that I could easily Steve in her. The way she became so animated in that moment reminded me of Steve when we went to pubs with the squadron. They had the same blue eyes and they sparkled the same when they spoke of something they were interested in and both got that far away look when they reminisced. She was small but knew how to command a space to where she seemed much bigger than she actually was. She stood maybe 5'3", 5'4 ½" if she puffed her hair up. The noise she made evidently woke up the only other occupant of the house as a red-headed man stumbled into the living room without a shirt. She immediately tossed a dirty dish rag at him and scolded him for being so indecent in the company of a lady. I chuckled for the first time in days as he gripped about how age has made her noisier. After convincing her that I wasn't hungry and she needn't worry herself with cooking, the man walked back in, his red hair sticking up in all directions.

"That is my older son, Douglas –Steven's older brother. I do my best to domesticate him but it seems that Steven inherited all the manners," she joked. Douglas looked just like his mother except with more height and his father's hazel eyes. His square jaw was wider than Steve's as he had his mother's heart-shaped face and freckles that were dusted across his sharp cheekbones and narrow nose. His eyes were brown around the pupil but quickly feathered to an olive green with flecks of gold throughout them and his haphazard hair was curlier than his mother's. They could easily be placed as mother and son. He winked at me when he saw that I was taking in his slightly disheveled appearance. I rolled my eyes at him.

"I have manners, I just choose not to display them," he spoke playfully as he sat on the sofa across from me.

"Is that so?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, because you see darling," he reached a freckled hand into the small wooden bowl of candies on the coffee table, "if you hand out something often it becomes standard it becomes expected and loses value," the bowl was mostly peppermint and coconut assortments. "But when you give something out carefully and sparingly it becomes rare and exotic and is appreciated more and is more sincere when given." He pulled out a singular chocolate candy and handed it to me. I smiled at his artful metaphor and saw how he and Steve shared their beautiful way of looking at the world. My heart clenched knowing that I was to be the one to ruin their day.

Sarah brought the tea and coffee over and took a seat next to her son and spoke. "So what have you come for, sweetheart. Steven obviously didn't send you as he's not here with you."

"Well, _I_ would love to know how my little shrimp of a brother managed to get a beautiful dame such as yourself to like him enough to come and know his family." Sarah smacked his arm at the use of the word "dame" and I could tell it hurt by how he cringed.

"Well, I met him a while back in the training in England. He was the only one that didn't degrade me for being a woman. From there we bonded, you could say."

"What was Steven doing in England?" Sarah questioned. I raised an eyebrow and responded confused. "He was training, he joined the army… you didn't know, did you?" Sarah covered her mouth as she began to realize what this meeting could mean.

"Wait, how did that 90 pound asthmatic get accepted into the army in the first place?" Douglas demanded. I had anticipated this question and pulled out a Polaroid of Steve, myself and some of the men from the squadron at a bar and played dumb.

"Steve must have changed since you've last seen him. He's is not the 'shrimpy' boy you speak of." I handed them the picture and they stared at it quietly, taking in that things have changed for the youngest Rogers. I continued while they were quiet. "Well, there was a… complication in a mission in the Alps and he ended up having to pilot an enemy aircraft. This plane was carrying missiles of utter destruction. Those missiles would've desolated the entire eastern coast of this country. The missiles could not be redirected and he couldn't stop it. So he had to land the plane but there wasn't any land so he decided to put it in the water… I am so sorry and I wish it weren't so but Steven is…dead." I choked on my words a little as I still hadn't come to terms with it much less said it out loud. Sarah made a sort of strangled noise as she tried to choke down her sobs.

"Why would he do that? He always thought he was invincible! My little Steven…" she cried harder and buried her face in her remaining son's chest as he held her close. Douglas had yet to react and sat there wide-eyed. Finally he spoke, his voice broken.

"No, that can't be right." Sarah pulled away from him as he spoke. "No. Last time I saw him I said things I didn't mean. I meant to apologize I swear. I didn't even get to say good bye. No he can't do that. He doesn't have the right to go and be all self-sacrificial! He can't! He's my little brother! I'm the one that's supposed to go and do the protecting! Not him! He can't be! He's my brother!" Douglas had stood up and smashed our empty cups and attacked the wall before crumpling to the ground and sobbing. Sarah went to him and pulled him into her arms like a baby as they mourned together. I watched as the life vanished from both of their eyes. Their cheeky spirits evaporated at knowing that only half of their original family was left.

I had stayed with them for the rest of the day and all night. I quickly learned where everything was and made them tea, coffee, dinner, whatever they needed. I had been the one to deliver the news, I felt that I had to make sure that they would be alright. I had grown attached to their quirky Irish ways and found a bit of Steve within them and I wasn't ready to let go then. Eventually, I learned to let go when Sarah died and Douglas followed some decades later. Sarah had left the apartment to Douglas who left it to me.

I still had the apartment.

I had preserved all the furnishings but only had half of it in the apartment, the other half was in a storage unit somewhere in the Bronx. The only thing that was untouched was Steve's room from before he had moved out and before I met him. Steve liked to hear the stories of his family while he was in the ice.

* * *

A few days ago.

"…your brother thought that he was slick enough to escape your mother after she found out he sold that hideous garden gnome. I personally couldn't believe someone actually bought the outrageous thing! She couldn't catch him to hit him but that woman had great aim, tossed a vase at him and barely missed." I finished a tale about Sarah and Douglas. Steve dissolved into a fit of laughter, no doubt imagining it.

"My mother had wicked aim, Doug always said I got off easy being the glass doll of the family," Steve remarked.

"Maybe that's where your skill with a shield comes from," I joked as I picked up his plate.

"Maybe… thank you."

"You made the coffee, I figured I could at least put the dishes away." I put the dishes and returned to my seat beside him on the couch.

"No, I don't mean the dishes…" he looked at me, the sadness was plain in his blue eyes. "Thank you for taking care of them. You didn't have to, no one asked you to but you did it anyways. I know they can be crazy but they were my family. You risked exposing yourself by staying with them and can't thank you enough for it." I smiled and scooted closer to hug his large frame.

"At first I did it for you because I saw you in them but eventually I did because I wanted to. I loved them, they became my family. You don't need to thank me…" He slung an arm around my shoulders and ruffled my hair affectionately. "However you can make it up to me with massages."

During the war I had discovered that Steve gave phenomenal massages.

* * *

The day that Steve came home was an interesting day to say the least. I had made a quick work of getting Steve moved in and it made for an interesting reaction from the landlord downstairs. When I had first moved there it was 1943 and while the landlords had changed over the years they all had met their new tenants and I was a repeating face of seven decades. The current landlord was a narcissistic college student named Jackson Overland. He was known as a flirt and he lived up to that reputation. For as long as he had been my landlord he tried many times to convince me to give him a second glance and he was rather cheeky and persistent about it. When he saw Steve walk in with me laughing he was shocked into a momentary daze.

Steve and I walked into the lobby with him carrying the one bag he had. He was smiling brightly showing off his small singular dimple as he spoke.

"You haven't changed much; I think the only real difference is your hair. It was blonde –bordering on white -last time." His eyes scanned over my chemically blackened hair as he spoke.

I chuckled. "Well I discovered shortly after you left that my hair color was noted to be unusual."

"I suppose you're right. But it suited you." Steve blushed and looked away as he voiced his compliment.

"I believe that anything would look good on the beautiful Andrea," Jackson spoke up as he exited the lobby office and made his way towards us. Once he reached us he slung a lightly muscled arm around my shoulders. "Hello, sweetheart."

I rolled my eyes and shrugged his arm off me. "How many times have I told you to stop calling me that? It is not my name. And I am far from your sweetheart."

"That may be true now but one day you will be," he remarked, ignoring my first statement. Steve then came and stood closer to me making his presence known. Extending a hand to Jackson, he spoke.

"Hello, you must be Jackson. My name is Steve." Jackson eyed him, sizing him up. Taking his hand and shaking it he answered.

"Well you already know my name so there's no point in me saying it. How do you know me?"

"Andy told me about you."

"Did she now?" Jackson gave me a cheeky look and winked, a cocky smirk playing at his lips.

"She did. I figured that I should know about my landlord before I move in-" Jackson interrupted him then.

"Oh, you want an apartment? Well there are some vacancies on the third floor-"

"-with Andy."

"What?" Jackson's mouth fell slack as he deadpanned at the statement. I couldn't help but let out a laugh at his shocked expression. Once I collected myself, i spoke up.

"Steve will be living with me from now on. You always said that I needed a flat-mate and now I have one." I inclined my head at Steve then made my way to the elevator. "Come on, Steve. It's been a while since I last made dinner for anyone besides myself."

Living with Steve proved to be a great improvement to my life until the nightmares began.

Every night dreams of the war plagued me. Sometimes it was of the close calls in battle or of Steve flying into the arctic waters. In the latter of those dreams I was in the plane with him, sinking with him, drowning with him but powerless to stop it. I either dreamt of those things or I dreamt of nothing at all. Normally when I awoke in the middle of the night I was cloaked in a thin sheen of sweat with my heart pounding and gasping for air. However, that night I was woken by the nightmares of someone else.

Steve's screams rang out through the space of the apartment, no words, just an incessant wail of agony. Jolted from my own discontent slumber, I dashed to the source of the abhorrent shrieking. I found Steve in his room half-covered by the sheets and thrashing about wildly. His face was twisted in agony as he balled his fist into the mattress.

"Steve? Steve! Steven, wake up!" I rushed to his side and placed my hands on his cheeks. "Steve, wake up!" I slapped his cheeks lightly and shook him roughly. His azure eyes shot open and he stopped screaming but continued to make small panicked noises. His eyes darted around the room trying to place in his mind where he was. I placed a hand on his chest to still his movement and tilted his head to look at me. He tried to speak through his hysteria but I immediately silenced him. "It was dream, Steve. It was a nightmare. You're safe. Don't worry. You're safe. It was a dream," I whispered to him as I held his face firmly in my hands as his bright eyes searched my green ones. "You're safe." With those words I watched as the super soldier crumpled.

He leaned into me and whimpered softly. In that moment he seemed so small and helpless despite his large build. I pulled him into my arms, my back against the iron headboard as he curled into my side. His skin was like ice as if he were released from the arctic mere moments before. He trembled and his breathing was ragged. He buried his face into my neck as he wrapped an arm around my middle. Soon his whimpering subsided and gave way to soft shudders. I rubbed his shoulder soothingly and spoke.

"Do you want to talk about it?" My voice was barely above a whisper.

He let out a shaky breath before adjusting so that his head was resting on my shoulder. His usually deep voice was a raspy whisper. "I… I dreamt of the ice. I dreamt of sinking, drowning, and freezing. It's always the same… I'm in the plane as it sinks and fills with ice water. I-I feel the water rising around me. It's so cold. It hurts. It's numbing but burning and splintering all at once and I can't move. Then I'm submerged and it hurts so much! My eyes burn and I can't see anything and I'm suffocating. I can't breathe but the icy water hurts and I can't stop breathing it in and my lungs hurt. It's so cold-"

"Shhh. It's alright. You're safe now. Everything is okay. Shhh." I cut him off as his voice rose with hysteria. I pulled him closer and quieted him. After a while of sitting like this his breathing finally calmed down. "Better?" He nodded his head and I passed my hand through his hair before getting up. Just as I reached the door he spoke up in a steadier voice.

"Andromeda…" I stopped at the use of my full name, very few knew it. I locked eyes with him as he continued. "I know I don't have the right to ask you this but will you stay with me? Just for tonight…"

I closed the door and walked over to the bed. I smiled gently at him and got back into the bed as he adjusted around me back into our original position. His blonde head rested on my shoulder with his arms around my middle section. I pulled the covers up around us and we laid there quietly. After a while he fell asleep leaving me to my thoughts about the man in my arms. Eventually I fell asleep and dreamt of a home far away.

* * *

**Author's Note: Hello again! Once again, thank you for reading. I was never a huge comic book fan despite my large X-Men comic collection so I had to do a bit of research. It is canon that Steve's parent's were Sarah and Joseph and were Irish immigrants and he _does_ have a brother named Douglas -whether it is an older brother or not I don't know so I took some creative liberty with that. And now reviews!  
Rainbow Magic Girl: Thank you for the review and the compliment. I try really hard to keep Marvel characters in character. Once again thank you!**


	4. Chapter 4: Of Stores and Stars

Chapter Four: Of Stores and Stars

The smell of leather and aftershave was the first thing I noticed when I came to the next morning. I knew something was out of place but the comforting warmth I felt beneath the covers kept me in a sleepy haze. A soft sigh escaped my lips as I snuggled further into the heat source at my side and was enveloped into the comforting heat. An arm wrapped around me and I smiled as I felt soft breath on my head.

_I can't remember the last time I was in bed with a man_.

My eyes shot open then. I tensed as I tried to recall where I was and soon remembered how I had stayed with Steve after his nightmare. I relaxed slightly but not completely. But waking him up was inevitable with how we were wrapped up in the covers.

"Steve," I whispered and poked his ribs gently. He stirred slightly but did not awake. "Steve… Steve, wake up." The man in question shifted and pulled me completely on top him. I blushed slightly but quickly got over it and decided to be a little cheeky. I squirmed in his arms and put my lips close his ear. "Steve," I breathed and felt him tense and shift. "Steve, wake up." Before I could even pull away, he startled awake and attempted to disentangle us and somehow ended up hitting his head on the head board. Fighting to hold back my laughter I spoke again, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah; sorry for making you stay with me," he muttered as his ears turned red with the blush I knew he was suppressing. "We should get out of bed…"

I nodded and we both tried to untangle ourselves but only ended up more knotted then when we started. Steve jerked his legs that were tangled in mine and we both fell gracelessly to the floor in a mass of limbs. My head hit the ground with a thud as the blankets came down with us. I let out a groan as the weight above me eased up slightly. Opening my eyes I found myself staring into the cobalt ones of Steve Rogers. His face was mere inches from mine, so close I could feel his breath on my face and see the faint almost invisible freckles that littered his cheeks and nose. I had never noticed them before. His full lips were parted slightly as his eyes scanned my face, his pupils dilating and shrinking as he tried to focus through the slight daze of sleep that still held him. His muscled arms were on both sides of my head with his elbows and forearms flat on the ground. I knew that his shirt had ridden up because mine had as well and I could feel the smooth skin of his stomach against mine and a bit of the small trail of hair that trailed from his naval to beneath his pants. His lower torso was flush against mine with one of his legs between mine.

After a few seconds, Steve blinked and realized the compromising position we were in and made a quick job if getting to his feet. I laid there a moment as I took in how red his face had become then took the hand that Steve had offered me and got to my feet. One look at his flushed face and I busted out in barks of undignified laughter. Reigning myself in I gathered the blankets off the floor Steve spoke.

"I'm so–" I cut him off still giggling.

"No more 'I'm sorry', Steve. The day has only just begun. Surely you do not intend on using up your apologies before noon, do you?" I turned back to him with a smile. His broad shoulders physically relaxed at my words as he gave a small smile of his own. Tossing the bundle of blankets at him I continued, "Now get dressed. You and I are going out today. We will get breakfast outside. You've been here for about two weeks already. You need more clothes. And it is no bother to me so just don't."

I shut the door behind me and made my way to my room. I took a quick shower and washed my hair and noted that the dye was beginning to fade and that my roots were showing in some spots. I dried my hair and dressed quickly and after some inner debate, I slipped into a pair of dark wash jeans, a short sleeve purple V-neck and matching purple sneakers. Over the years I had made an effort to become fashionable. Entering the living room I saw that Steve was bent over tying his shoelaces. Feeling cheeky once again, I rolled up a discarded newspaper and whacked his behind with it. His head shot up as he turned redder than the stripes on his shield.

"Get a move on soldier!" I laughed. He blushed harder as I tied my hair into a high ponytail.

"You're more audacious than I remember," he commented as his blush faded.

"I am far less brazen than the general female population; consider it part of your assimilation," I replied. Reaching into the coat closet I grabbed an old, worn, brown leather jacket that was easily too big for me. Once Steve rose back to his full height of 6'2" I held the jacket out to him. "When they emptied out your locker this was in it. I kept it these past years… but it is technically yours, sorry if it smells a bit feminine."

He took it from me and looked at the barely there scuff marks, evidence that I had worn it frequently. Other than that it was practically in mint condition. He smiled at it with a look of nostalgia before handing it back to me. I furrowed my brows in confusion but took it.

"Keep it. You always wore it back during the war. I'll get another one." He smiled and I assumed he realized how attached I was to the old thing. He opened and held the door for me and locked up. With that, we left and ventured into the city.

"So our first plan of action is to have breakfast," I said as I shrugged on the oversized jacket. "Are you in the mood for anything in particular, Mr. Rogers?" I skipped ahead of him, excited to show him around like he did with me in the 40s.

He smiled at my enthusiasm. "Not really, ma'am. Whatever you want is fine." I gave him a playful glare.

"Oh come on! At least make it a challenge for me. Take charge! Be a man, be obnoxious, be demanding!" Steve laughed then, doubling over once we hit the pavement. I stopped walking and tried to withhold my smile, placing my hands on my hips in mock offense. "You find something funny, Mr. Rogers? Do I amuse you?" One look at my wide eyes and exaggerated eyebrows sent him into another bout of laughter. Upon seeing him wipe tears from his eyes my own grin revealed itself. "But on the serious side… we've eaten in since you got back. Whatever you want." Steve crossed his arms in thought as he came up with an order.

"Alright, no fast food for breakfast –a diner or something –with a short to no waiting time." I raised an eyebrow at him in challenge to which he rolled his eyes. "How about some place small –quaint."

I smiled. "As you wish." Steve offered me his arm and I lead him to our first destination.

I hailed down a cab and we rode that to a little –by Manhattan standards –diner but was still in Brooklyn. It was a small family-owned diner on Clinton Avenue. It wasn't exactly a glamorous place but it was tidy, quaint and had this homely air about it. I attributed this to the friendly Jewish family that ran the establishment that was complete with a deli. It was welcoming. The whole restaurant was covered in deep maroon wallpaper that was fading form age. The once gold colored furnishings and accents had long since faded to a rusty brown but didn't look dirty by any means. The green, which was the final swatch to the color scheme, was the only color that still held its original vitality. The emerald was the minority color as it was only on the back wall which separated the dining room from the kitchen. I smiled as Steve took in his surroundings with interest. The small place was not busy so there was not wait and upon Steve's request we sat at a table, not a booth.

We approached the table and Steve pulled the chair out for me, his old-fashioned manners shining through.

"Men don't do that anymore –pull out the chairs for women," I said sadly.

"They don't? I'll make note of that then…" I could see he was disheartened.

"No. It's not common than men do that but it is in no way looked down upon. If anything, women will swoon over it. Unfortunately, men have lost their touch in some cases," I assured him. He didn't respond but I could see in the way he straightened his back that he was pleased.

After placing our orders, we resumed conversation "So what exactly are we doing today?" He folded his hands on the table in a business-like manner.

I mimicked his movements in a mock way. It was a relief to be so free with Steve. It had been a while since I had found a friend I could be so honestly me with. I only had two companions that I revealed myself to but not as much as I had with Steve.

"Well, Mr. Rogers, I had planned to go to either Macy's or JCPenny's to expand your wardrobe. You are to pick out the clothes and I will pay. The only thing I am adamant about is that we get you two suits. I believe you mother said that every decent man should have two suits."

"I don't believe that I need two suits," Steve protested.

"I don't believe you an indecent man," I shot back. He half-smiled at my stubbornness.

"I still don't want you to pay for me." I sighed as I hoped he would not register that part.

"Technically, it is not my money. You are under observation of SHIELD so they are funding your maintenance." He frowned so I continued, "Clothing is considered maintenance. It's not my money so orders are orders." His face lightened a bit as he nodded but I could see he was still bothered. Brushing that off, I spoke again. "If we have time after we retrieve some clothes for you, there are some things I want to show you."

He nodded quickly and that was when our food came.

After the hearty breakfast (which consisted of us consuming two large omelets each) we got in a cab and headed for Manhattan. I made the cab driver let us off in the middle of Manhattan and we walked through the island city. I figured that was the best way to help Steve get reacquainted with the city. We found our way to Macy's and I had to cover my mouth from giggling at how Steve stared in awe at the large department store; however, I couldn't hold back my chuckles when I saw how Steve's face reddened and how his eyebrows rose when shameless women winked at him. Once in the men's section I told him he could wander on his own if he wished and he did. I looked around on my own as well in hopes of finding a leather jacket to replace the one I was currently wearing. As I was picking one up my phone rang.

"Hello?" I answered without having checked the caller ID.

"Hello, angel. Miss me?" The voice of Clint Barton glided through the phone's small speaker.

"Oh, yes. I can barely survive without you," I chuckled. "It has been a while, how are you?"

"I'm good but I'd be better if I had my sparring buddy back. SHIELD doesn't make agents like they used to. Look, I know you like to keep yourself busy with non-SHIELD stuff but not even a text? What new secret you got now?" Rolling my eyes I scoffed.

"I haven't any secrets, thank you very much. And if you must know, Fury assigned me the mission of monitoring the Captain." I picked up two similar jackets and analyzed them. "Who makes better leather jackets? Wilson's or Calvin Klein?"

"What makes you think I know?"

"Well, leather is practically all you clothe yourself in."

He paused, "I own jeans." I chuckled at his helpless response.

"Agent Barton, you are utterly useless. What do I keep you around for as it surely is not your intellect."

"It must be my devilish good looks." I could practically hear him smirking. I was just about to respond when I heard a voice behind me.

"Excuse me, Andy?" I turned and met Steve, his left arm holding a few t-shirts and jeans. "I found some stuff."

"Hey, I have to go. I shall see you soon," I said quickly into the phone.

"Bye, angel."

I hung up and turned all my attention to Steve. "Let us find a fitting room."

We quickly found a fitting room and I waited outside. Most of the clothes looked good on him so I coaxed him into getting everything except the trending skinny jeans. He didn't like them and quite frankly neither did I. After purchasing the garments we ventured to a boutique down the street that I knew had nice suits.

"I still don't think I need two suits."

I rolled my eyes at the soldier. "And I still do not think you to be an indecent man. You of all people should know that I am too stubborn to yield so easily." I said we walked into the shop. A moment after walking in we were approached by a slim, raven haired man in what I assumed was rather expensive clothes given the designer label.

"Hello, my name is Matthew, may I help you with anything?" he asked. His New York accent laced into his every word. He looked at us expectantly.

"Actually yes, he needs two suits," I answered. The man began leading us further into the store.

"Anything in particular?"

"Not really, just something that looks nice, I suppose." Steve shrugged.

"I don't think there's much that wouldn't look good on you," Matthew said quietly. Most people wouldn't have heard the comment but the captain and I were not most people. Matthew put Steve to stand on a runway of sorts and called over a tall woman –whom he called Janice –to help him measure Steve. They both scurried off to pick up items of clothing so Steve joined me on the couch that sat before the runway. After a pause Steve spoke.

"Is he?"

"Yep."

"Hm," Steve rung his hands out and nodded. Silence befell us again and I turned to him.

"Are you alright? You seem... off." I stared hard at the man to my left and searched his face for any hints as to what was on his mind. I knew something had him off kilter but I was unsure of what it was. Before he could respond the two clerks returned and handed him a pile of suits that they thought would suit him, no pun intended. Once he was behind the closed door of a dressing room Matthew and Janice turned to me.

"So what's the deal with you and Mr. Muscles?" Matthew prompted.

I furrowed my brows. "Pardon?" Janice rolled her heavily lined eyes.

"Where did you find him and where can I get one? I saw him hold the door for you and he was holding your bags. Cute with manners, that's hard to come by."

"How long have you two been together? Are you guys married?"

"Actually –" I began.

"Neither of them have rings, though," Janice cut in.

"We aren't together!" I half yelled. They stopped talking and shared a look. "We are just friends." I said at a normal volume.

"I'm sorry, honey. I know how harsh the friendzone can be." I opened my mouth to speak again but a male voice sounded instead.

"How do I look?" We looked up and saw Steve standing above us in a nicely tailored black suit complete with patented leather shoes. The slim fitting trousers made him look even taller than he was and led up to a nicely fitted jacket with a split panel back. His large hands fastened the matte black buttons and hid away a simple navy blue tie and crisp white dress shirt that was neatly tucked. In the suit he reminded me of how he looked when he wore his formal captain uniform in the 40s. Walking towards him I answered.

"You look fantastic except for one thing," I took the blue tie in my hands and redid it.

He grumbled. "One of these days I will get it right." Once done I smiled at the full image before me. "Do I look spiffy now?" I rolled my eyes and groaned at his word choice.

"Oh God, please never use the word 'spiffy' again." I turned to the clerks that had been whispering to each other. "Is there a gray version of this?" They nodded. "We shall take that and this one." Without another word, they went to fetch the gray suit and I bid Steve to go and change.

Soon we were done there we headed back to the apartment as I had no desire to tormenting Steve with the task of carrying the bags for the rest of the day.

"We still have the rest of the afternoon; do you have anything else planned?" Steve asked once he deposited the bags in his room.

"Actually, I do. I wanted to show you something. You don't have to change or anything, it's nothing fancy. Come on, I'm taking the car and I would prefer decent parking."

"When did you learn to drive?" Steve asked incredulously.

"I've had 70 years to learn," I winked. We entered the parking garage across the street and I guided the soldier to a sleek black Chevy.

"What kind of car is this? It seems kind of…" he paused searching for the right word.

"Old-fashioned?" I offered and he nodded. "It's a 1967 Chevrolet Impala. I don't know much about cars but I love this one. Now get in." He hoped in and buckled up and I tore out of the garage. The whole ride he pestered me about where we were headed and I refused to tell him. Eventually he gave up and stared out the window silently as I drove into a neighborhood unfamiliar to him but very familiar to me. The stereotypical busy New York streets digressed into a more run down area which then dissolved into a long empty street with small shed-houses that stuck out of the forestry every now and then. Finally after a while of travelling down the desolate street we came to a large older building. I liked to imagine that it housed a family of high nobility when it was in its prime but now it was just a little more than a shadow of what it used to be. The tall iron gates were rusted and squeaky but still stood strong. The walls were discolored as the paint peeled but the tall windows still held their majesty. The place was generally broken down but there was still life in it.

"What is this place?" Steve wondered aloud.

"This is St. Cecilia's Home for Lost Children. It's an orphanage," I answered sullenly. I had a soft spot for children. I parked the car and exited quietly. Not long after, the old mahogany double doors opened revealing an elderly woman in a nun's habit. Her face was stern but there was patience hidden in the fine wrinkles that creased her face. She walked towards us leisurely, her posture strict and straight.

"I was wondering if you'd show up today, Andy. You haven't been here the past couple weeks; the children were disappointed," the words were languid but punctuated as they fell from her smiling lips.

"I know; I have been very busy, though."

"I can see that," The nun inclined her head toward Steve. "And who is this young man?"

Steve held his hand out to the woman and spoke. "My name is Steve Rogers, ma'am. Nice to meet you." She placed her smaller hand in his and gave it a firm shake.

"I am Sister Jude. Nice, firm handshake and manners. It is certainly nice to meet you, Mr. Rogers." She gave and easy smile and turned back to me. "They are cleaning right now but you are welcome to join them." She walked away swiftly and we followed behind at a much slower pace.

"She seems…nice. But I still don't understand why we're here –and whose 'they?'" Steve whispered to me.

"The children."

I led him inside into the foyer. From the foyer one could go in four directions: forward through another set of doors, left down a long hall, right down another long hall, or up by the dark wooden spiral staircase. Walking forward, I led him through the set of windowed double doors. The doors opened into a large room lit by the late afternoon light that streamed in through the tall thick-glassed windows. The sound of young voices reverberated off the walls as the permeating smell of rubbing alcohol and other antiseptics filled our nostrils. The biting creak of the door hinges caused a silence to befall the room as the children lifted their heads. All at once, I found myself being swarmed.

"Andy!" they all exclaimed. The younger children swarmed at my legs attempting to find a part of me to embrace while the older children hung back. "Where've you been," and "we missed you," tumbled out of their small mouths several times as I crouched to hug them all. After subjecting myself to their embraces I rose and they scurried back to let the older children through. Some hung back and nodded while others hugged me. One of the older boys, a dirty blonde by the name of Benedict spoke then.

"So who's the guy?" Attention turned to Steve then and I saw him stand a little taller at being addressed even if by a teen.

"This is an old friend of mine, Steve." Benedict hummed as the boys visually assessed him. After a while the boys nodded and went back to cleaning. Deciding to ignore the strange exchange, I looked around for one boy in particular.

"Alarik is in his room," Sister Jude said as she entered the room. The children busied themselves with cleaning once they noticed her presence and I nodded my thanks to her. Turning to Steve, I gave him a sad smile and spoke.

"There's someone I want you to meet," I said as I walked back into the foyer and up the stairs. The walk was silent aside from the quiet hello's I gave to the nuns we passed. Finally, we reached our destination and I stood outside the old wooden door, taking a deep breath. The metal door knob was cold in my hand as I turned it and switched on the low lights.

The walls of the medium-sized room were painted in a variety of colors. The wall to our left was alight with golds and blues as they stitched together a scene of a great golden palace on the horizon of a city on the edge of a waterfall with twin moons painted far off in the sky. The opposite was an array of dark greens, browns, oranges, and deep reds which came together to form a grand forest in autumn. The far wall that the bed was against was almost completely covered in medical equipment and the vague outline of a small form could be seen beneath the mass of covers. I avoided creaky boards with practiced steps and made my way to the bed. Motioning Steve over, I slowly sat on the bed. I gently pulled the covers back to reveal a small patchy buzzed-cut head buried in the pillows, a breathing tube laid discarded in a pale fist. A small smile came to my face as I spoke.

"This is Alarik Steven Haverly. He was left on the steps as an infant with no name or anything. He has a knack for astronomy and likes to draw, swim and climb trees but it has been a long time since he has done the last two. He was diagnosed with leukemia 3 years ago. He's 13 years old." I looked at Steve and saw a sad look come across his face. Then there was a soft groan that was followed by a yawn. Turning back to Alarik, I saw him slowly join the waking world. I smiled a little brighter and greeted him. "Hello, welcome to the world of the living."

"Andy!" The small boy beamed at me and sat up to hug me. His bony arms wrapped around my neck as I wrapped mine around his smaller frame. "I missed you," he whispered into my hair.

"I missed you, too. I have been really busy lately." I pulled away from him and noticed how his collarbones protruded against his pale skin. I held back a grimace.

"Where've you been?" the child asked, suspicion in his tone.

"An old friend of mine came to stay with me and we had a lot to catch up on. I brought him with me actually." I moved aside allowing Steve into the young boy's view. Steve smiled and held out his hand to the young boy which I smiled at.

"Hi, I'm Steve." Alarik shook his hand timidly but the unabashed curiosity could be seen in the child's brown eyes. "I like your room. The walls are beautiful."

Alarik broke into a wide smile. "Thank you! Andy and I did it." Steve shot me a surprised look.

I shrugged. "You are not the only one with artistic ability. I have been practicing."

"Either way, I'm impressed. You've got a pretty cool name, too. What is it? German?" Alarik smiled at the soldier's approval.

"Andy named me. She said it means star fruit or something," he frowned.

"Stardust," I corrected. "It means _stardust._"

"Okay but _why?_ Why would you name anyone stardust? That's so boring –is that what I am? Colorful leftovers floating around? There is nothing interesting or noteworthy about _stardust_." I threw my head back and laughed at his distaste. I stood up and dimed the lights.

"You are too quick to pass judgment. Stardust is very 'interesting and noteworthy.' Think of a great red giant sun." I conjured a large red ball of light in my hands and smirked at Steve's shocked face and Alarik's excited smile. I released the ball and it drifted to the center of the room. "After millennia it shall die and explode in a supernova, scattering stardust." The miniature star collapsed in on itself then rapidly expanded in a cosmic explosion of various colors that rotated around the room slowly. Clouds of rainbow colors floated around us. "This is all stardust. Yes, it is the ashes of a star that once was but it is also the beginning of a new star, a new planet, a new life. From the dust come nebulae and suns and solar systems." The dust clouds swirls and turned and everything else fell away quickly giving the illusion that we were shooting through space with the dust as they formed famous nebulae such as the Medusa Cascade and the Pillars of Creation. The room came alive with the neon greens and bright blues and purples of the starlight. "Star dust is the end and the beginning. This is all stardust; everything around us is stardust. We are all stardust. You are stardust." I smiled as he beamed and reached tentative hands towards the universe I had conjured in the room. Looking at Steve I could see the same expression of child-like wonder as he took in the shrunken skies. After a few moments I noticed the smile fall from the child's lips as the twinkle dimmed in his brown eyes. Taking his face in my hands, I turned him to look at me. "What troubles you?"

He looked down. "I have chemo tomorrow… I'm gonna be sick again –sicker than I already am." I frowned and took his hand in mine, giving him a comforting squeeze. "Are you gonna come?" His big brown eyes were hopeful as they searched my face.

"I am sorry, Alarik. I cannot, I have work," a look of heartbreak passed over his face, "But I have an idea." Swiftly, I went through the dresser and found a small, rosary box, stars still swirling around the room. Plucking a star from the sky I created, I sat back on the bed and opened the small brown box. I placed the star in the box and closed it. The sky I created, vanished. "Whenever you feel scared, or alone and I'm not there, open this and remember that we are all bits of stardust floating though the heavens together." I opened the box and the nebulae and dust clouds and stars flew from it, filling the room with its majesty once more.

"I like the way you look at the world," Alarik yawned. I smiled and kissed his forehead.

"Go back to sleep. You have a long day tomorrow."

"Two steps ahead of you." He yawned again and curled up into the sheets and covered himself. "Bye Andy. Bye Steve." He closed his eyes and slowly drifted off. Gently, I put the breathing tube on him and turned on the oxygen.

"Come on, we are staying for dinner," I said walking past him, avoiding eye contact.

Downstairs, the children were washing up and showering in preparation for dinner as the nuns in the kitchen finished up the cooking. Steve and I helped set the tables as the children began trickling in. A prayer was said by Sister Jude and everyone began eating. The meal was simple –mashed potatoes, meatloaf, and other things that I didn't even bother with –but good. Steve took second helpings much to the amusement of Sister Jude. Jokes were tossed around the table as the children spoke eagerly trying to bring me up to date. Most of the kids took interest in Steve as he was new to them, trying to learn more about him. The dinner ended and Steve went with the older kids that went to help the younger ones get cleaned up while the nuns and I stayed behind to clean the tables and wash the dishes. The nuns around me chatted and laughed as they busied themselves around me.

The cleaning didn't take long and I soon found myself making my way back to Alarik's room. I found him curled in on himself, the rosary box opened, stars swirling around the room. His body shook softly as he shivered. I quietly turned the heater on in the room and sat beside him. He muttered and whimpered in his sleep, telltale signs of a nightmare. Placing a gentle hand on his head I began to hum softly then began to sing just as quietly. This was the only sure way to get Alarik's nightmares to cease.

"_Hön'marën kena-uva kala  
Indönya ullumeá  
Nör'ande sëra mi lorien  
îm'eri ratö naya  
Larya nîn mëlissè  
Le sinte îma sinomë  
ána sama lemî oloorë  
Le ar'uunèr ana kaurë  
Uur'anor wannëa  
Isilme va'arya  
Telume siila tere  
Na'are utumno wanya  
Erüma, helkàda  
Raanè ressè  
Lörna à'kuilä  
Vàrna mi'olör  
Türma ei ràumo  
Sinomë."_

_Translation:_

_"My heart shall see light_

"_My heart shall see light,_

_Our hearts shall be forever. _

_Go forth, rest in dreamland._

_I'll soon be there._

_Wait for me my love._

_You know I'm here_

_To join you in dreams._

_You have nothing to fear_

_Fiery sun, begone;_

_Moonlight, protect us,_

_Heaven's star, shine through,_

_Flame of hell, vanish_

_Lonely voice, cold and bare_

_Wandering alone, _

_Asleep, yet awake_

_Safe in dreams_

_Shelter from the storm_

_Here."_

My voice faded out and I smiled when I saw that he was back to a peaceful sleep. I noticed then, that Steve had quietly entered the room when I sang to the small bedridden boy. Although his back was to us in the dark room I could see him tense as my voice ceased. Leaning down to Alarik's small head and kissed his forehead and adjusted his breathing tube before taking up the rosary box of stars.

"You'll be alright. Everyone who terrifies you is 70% water. And everything you love is made of stardust, and I know sometimes you cannot even breathe deeply, and the night sky is no home, and you have cried yourself to sleep enough times that you are down to you last two percent, but nothing is infinite –not even loss. You are made of the sea and stars and one day you shall find yourself again." I whispered the words as I closed the rosary box and set it on the night stand.

Turning to once again face the soldier I saw that he was inspecting the pictures on the wall with the door. His back was still to Alarik and I, evidence that he had given us a private moment to which I was glad. Taking a deep breath, I spoke.

"Let's go home."

**Author's Note:**

**I apologize fro taking so long to update. I have been quite busy which high school (senior year and all). The song is by Lulluby From A Distant Land by Forest Elves on youtube. It's very beautiful and I encourage you to listen to it. Anyway this chapter is actually over 5k words and 10 pages so I tried to make up for my absence!**


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